


Haunt Me, Darling

by LissiaMoonstone



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Humor, Ghost Tom Riddle, Harry Potter is So Done, Haunted Houses, M/M, Manipulative Tom Riddle, Oblivious Harry Potter, Possessive Tom Riddle, Riddle House (Harry Potter), Romance, Tom Riddle is His Own Warning, ghost au, haunted house au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:41:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29165136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LissiaMoonstone/pseuds/LissiaMoonstone
Summary: Escaping a penny pinching life in London for the countryside, Harry thinks the superstitious residents of Little Hangleton have missed out on a bargain. Tom Riddle knows they really, really haven’t.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Tom Riddle, Harry Potter & Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Harry Potter/Voldemort
Comments: 19
Kudos: 153





	Haunt Me, Darling

**Author's Note:**

> I’m a menace for updating, so please bear with me. I’ve seen only a few fics along this trope so I really wanted to offer my own take on it. I hope you like it, and would really appreciate any feedback!

The headlines had been alarming to say the least: ‘Man Killed At Murder Manor’, ‘Riddled With Blood’ and, even more bluntly put, ‘Psycho Ghost Strikes Again’. Yet Harry couldn’t help but think that the big old house was kind of charming.

He had expected to see cobweb infested corners, doors hanging off hinges and scratches clawed deep into the walls. Maybe something dramatic and cinematic like a fingertip traced threat scrawled across a dusty table, or russet red handprints staining door knobs. The popular story was that no matter how many times anyone tried to make the Riddle House presentable, the malevolent ghost who supposedly inhabited it would mock their efforts, starting off by making perfectly new lightbulbs flicker out into the gloom and forcing the house colder with every degree the thermostat was turned up. Eventually these petty games would escalate into the famously dark tales of death that the regional papers seemed to derive half their profit from.

As he followed the realtor over the threshold, however, he was taken aback by just how presentable, spacious and clean the foyer was. Incense sticks burned on the side tables, emanating a pleasant scent of vanilla. The lights were bright, warm and homely. The realtor seemed even more taken aback, which made no sense, given how long he had told Harry the property had been on the market with Malfoy Estates for. His thin, pointed face was drained, jaw slack.

“Well, looks like your guys decided to try dropping the whole haunted house shtick,” Harry mused approvingly. “This looks amazing, Mr Malfoy, far better than the images you showed me before.”

Draco Malfoy nodded, stilted, but didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Yes, I suppose they must have. Do accept my apologies for the misrepresentation. If you would follow me through to the kitchen ...”

The tour of the house took some time, as it was more of a manor than an actual house, and the surprising pleasantness of the atmosphere and decor seemed to grow lovelier with each room, like a rose unfurling its petals. Furnishings were traditional and sparse, but it was more than enough for him at the present. Four bedrooms was definitely overkill. Harry had no idea what he would do with all the space, but it was a more than welcome change from the ‘bedrooms’ of his childhood, or the time he had spent scraping rent together in a tiny flat.

Finally, they entered the main reception room on the first floor. This room was where all the stories seemed to centre around. From the original grisly tale to the latest retelling, all the rumoured ‘killings’ Harry had read about occurred here. Harry tried, but he couldn’t visualise that sort of mood in such a pleasant room. The main lights were off, with two lamps softly illuminating the room, creating a relaxing ambiance. An elegant black fireplace was lit, fire crackling away in the centre of the room, surrounded by a settee and two armchairs. The furniture was dated and worn, especially on one particular armchair, but Harry could always reupholster, or even buy new if he could afford to after the sale.

“You even lit the fireplace! I feel spoiled,” he joked. “Definitely doesn’t look like the Murder House any more.”

Malfoy looked unamused. His whole body had stiffened, as he turned to look at the fireplace. “We do what we can.”

 _Moody git_ , he thought, and moved to have a closer look. As he approached, he noticed one solitary picture in a frame resting on the mantlepiece. Once he caught its eye, somehow he felt he could not look away.

It was a simple black and white portrait picture of a young man. In the photo, he looked to be in his mid twenties, possibly a little older than Harry, but he knew the image must be very old; worn and faded in patches. Classically handsome, with high cheekbones and a strong jaw, the dark haired man had stared directly into the camera, haughty and imposing. Onyx eyes held a glint of almost smug self assuredness, and for the first time in the supposed haunted manor, Harry’s skin prickled.

“Who is this?” He murmured, tilting the picture, brows furrowed in curiosity.

“It is said that he was the descendant of one of the original owners of the property. Apparently he lived here in the early fifties. We have tried to remove his portrait before, but it simply reappears on the next viewing.”

 _Oh come on. They could at least be original about this_. “Along with blood on the walls, I suppose?”

“You really aren’t scared at all, are you, Mr Potter?” Malfoy’s flinty eyes narrowed, looking at him properly for the first time since he had ushered him through the door.

“No offence, but I know how the housing market is. You guys have to sell houses somehow, and playing up to the curse rumours is probably better for business than denying them. Better off looking for a guy who wants the house because of its reputation and not despite it.”

Pale eyebrows raised. “And you’re that guy?”

Harry laughed. “No. I just want a nice home to return to every day with the budget that I have, and this place passes all my expectations. It’s a hundred and fifty grand still, right?”

“What with the ... improvements we have recently made, I will have to check with my associates. Please hold one for one moment while I make a quick call.”

Frowning, Harry acquiesced. Turning away as Malfoy strode out of the room, flashy smartphone already in hand, he returned his attention to the photo. Curiously enough, it was the only thing in the house that made him feel a little disconcerted. He felt a strange draw to it, as if once he picked it up he would struggle to put it back down again. He supposed it didn’t help that the guy in it was very hot, even if he was a little creepy looking at the same time.

Malfoy returned abruptly. “The asking price is currently two hundred thousand.”

Harry grimaced. He knew the deposit would eat up all of his savings. “When did that happen? Last I checked online it was still one fifty.”

Was it just him, or had the temperature in the room dropped a little?

The blond man sneered slightly. “If you cannot afford it ...”

Yes, the temperature had definitely dropped. One of the lamps started to flicker, sharply illuminating and then shrouding the corner of the room in darkness.

Harry’s face reddened. “It’s not about affordability; I’m just going off the price it was listed as up until at least this morning. And considering these clearly dodgy electrics, I don’t think you’re in a position to inflate it quite that much.”

Irritated, he felt like giving the snooty prat a bigger piece of his mind, but Malfoy’s attention had wandered, curled lip dropping as he stared at the lamp. “Let’s continue this conversation downstairs,” the realtor replied absently.

“God forbid the ghost of Riddle House interrupts us,” Harry said, eyes rolling heavenward.

“Yes, God forbid.”


End file.
